Ring of Fire The Journey Home
by Dixie-Filly
Summary: first fic y'all...anyways back to summary....Marik faces one of the most challenging times in his life alone, mexican prisons, knife fights, raw broncs, and life on the hacienda, the road home is a long, hard one..similar to All the Pretty Horses
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, this is my first fic....umm, so i read the book All the Pretty Horses..and loved it...and this is the story that came into my head...i guess u can tell im a horse person huh?...anyways....i hope its not too bad...:) It's a lil short for a first chapter, but with training horses and showing, its what i can manage right now.**

All was very quiet one humid evening in a small rural town just outside of San Antonio, Texas. The descending sun flashed many final amber rays on the hides of the grazing Longhorn and Angus cattle. Horses stood dosing with ears and lips drooping and hind legs cocked. All seemed peaceful enough on such a beautiful sunset. But on this evening, in a small shed annexed to an old barn, something terrible was being planned. Dim rays of light shined through a dusty window revealing a silhouette of a tall, lanky man leaning against the wall with arms crossed. His face held a grim expression. He was young, part Mexican, part American, a wedding band on his finger which was clutching his arm. Clearly he was troubled. A voice that came from another man sitting in a chair in front of him was the source of this fear. The reclining man was Mexican as well, but he was older, and something about him made others wary of him. He smirked at the boy and his white teeth gleamed from under his black mustache. "You will do as I say Niño, Si?" he asked still smirking. The young man didn't respond but glanced at his wedding band. Silence. The older man's expression drew into a hard line. "Niño, let me make myself clear again. You will find this boy that disgraced my family. You will take him to the prison in Guadalajara, a prison where no man lives." Again there was silence.

Finally the boy looked up at the man and quietly asked, "Why are you making me do this?" As soon as the words escaped the young boy's lips the older man jumped up and slammed him into the wall.

"Because Niño," he said through gritted teeth. "Because that trash used my son as a pawn to do his bidding. That is unforgiveable." The enraged man held the quivering boy firm. "If you do not do as I ask you know what will happen," he hissed at the boy eyeing the wedding band.

"Yes Sir," was the only response that the boy could manage to shakily say. Even fter he gave his response the man held him fast for quiet some time, but eventually he seemed to calm some.

"Ay Niño," the man said while releasing his grip his catlike smirk returning. The boy stood shaking in the corner. The older man grabbed his black felt hat, which had fallen in his rage, and headed for the door. The little wooden door creaked with age as faint light poured in revealing the man's nice suit and expensive ostrich skin boots. The man hesitated a second, then said, "They will be arriving in Nueva York in two days. He will be there. Do not let me down Niño." As he said the final words he threw a photo at the boy which landed perfectly in front of him. The man was gone and the boy was left staring at a picture of a tanned blond boy with dark robed figures around him, one of which was the man's son.

Marik Ishtar stared out of the window of the plane that was carrying him and his siblings into New York. It hadn't been long since his duel with Yugi and the evil within him banished, but he was still plagued with guilt from his actions. He became lost in his thoughts of all the events of battle city. Unknowingly he gave an exasperated sigh. This caught the attention of his sister Ishizu who asked if anything was wrong. Her question brought the boy back to his senses. "No, I'm fine, just a little tired," he said with a smile. The last thing his sister needed right now was to be worried about him; after all, she had a huge presentation at New York's largest museum. His answer seemed to work as the women smiled back and returned to her work on her laptop.

Finally the plane arrived in New York City. The teen tried to keep a cheerful face as him and his siblings traveled to the museum. When they arrived, there was already a huge crowd of people outside, one of which was the young Mexican boy. Rishid helped the young women into the building while Marik carried her things. The young Mexican boy watched intently, knowing this was the boy that he was to find. Silently he slipped past the crowd into the building's back door. Once inside he pulled out a syringe and hypodermic needle, along with a vile of tranquilizer meant for horses. The whole process caused great pain for the boy, he never wanted to sentence this blond boy to such a horrible fate, but his wife and unborn child depended on him. He filled the syringe to the desired mark, capped it, and put it into his coat pocket.

Meanwhile the coordinator for the exhibition found the Ishtar family. "Miss Ishtar, so nice to see you,' he said politely offering his hand. She took it and responded with smile.

"Thank you for inviting me here, where would you like me to set up?" she asked still smiling.

"Follow me ma'm," he stated as he motioned them to follow. They started down a long hallway when a voice called.

"Hey, your Marik Ishtar right? Your Miss Ishizu's brother," said a young darkly tanned man. The teen was caught off guard.

"Oh, um, yeah I am,' he stammered confused.

"Yes, I'm the electrician for all of the equipment that will be used during your sister's exhibition," he said sheepishly. "Only, I can't figure out this projector, could you help me out?" he asked embarrassed.

"Oh, sure," Marik said with a grin, anything to help his sister and keep his mind off of other things. "Rishid, I'm going to help this man with something, I'll be right back," the blond boy called as he turned to go with the young man.

"Alright Master Marik, we shall be waiting for you," the tall man replied.

Marik followed the young man down the corridor and to a small room. "This is the control room he said as he opened the small door, allowing the teen in first. As soon as the boy stepped in the door was slammed behind him. Startled, he turned to face the young man, but was caught by a pair of burly hands and forced down onto the floor. The huge man that held him placed a huge knee on the boy's back, pinning him down and cupped one hand over his mouth. Panic stricken the boy tried to fight, but to no avail. Finally he froze staring at the young man who stood in front of him brandishing the needle. Slowly the man came forth and knelt beside the frightened teen. "I'm sorry my friend," he said grimly as he injected the boy's arm with the clear liquid. The Egyptian boy stared at the young man as he got up. "I have done my part in this wretched deed, I will have no other part in it," he told the huge man holding Marik down. Sadly he faced the teen and said "I wish you luck my friend," and left.

The drug seemed to start working because the world started to spin and grow blurry. The boy's limbs felt weak and shaky. He started to feel numb as his body relaxed and his head sank into the huge hand that was holding him. Everything became so dim, and finally darkness took over.

The burly man released his grip and stood up. He caught the unconscious boy up and slung him over his shoulder. "Hombres, Vamos," he called out to others who were hiding in various rooms. Quickly they all made their way outside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, part two...thanks Luckyladybug for helpin me with the parts with Rishid and Ishizu. :) it's still short..darn it, oh well...please comment**

Ishizu was just finishing her presentation when a sickening wave of worry came over her. She stopped typing at once, hands trembling. Instinct told her something was dreadfully wrong with her brother Marik, but what, she wasn't sure. She couldn't bear it if something happened to her precious brother. Tears started to well in her blue eyes as she hurriedly scrambled to find Rishid, knocking the laptop to the floor. The poor woman ran down the halls almost screaming both of her brother's names in a desperate panic. For a second she thought that both of them were missing, but finally Rishid came out of a room and caught her in her frenzy.

"Lady Ishizu, whatever is wrong?" he asked panicked.

"It's Marik," she managed to gasp out in her tears.

Instantly the man's face went grave. He was Marik's protector and would give his life for the boy, and this was one of those times. "Stay here, I will find him," he said, but before he could do anything else they both heard the back door slam shut. "That must be them." Without another word the teen's faithful brother took off after him. Ishizu stood petrified in fear, shaking.

"Be careful," she whispered. She was helpless and both of her brother's lives could very well be at stake.

Rishid raced down the hall and threw open the door just in time to see the gang of men with his brother. When he saw his brother's ragdoll like state it instantly sent him into a rage. The man charged into the group, but was quickly overpowered by the gang of men. He was fighting a losing battle. "Master Marik!' Rishid called just as the huge man holding the teen rather harshly tossed him into the back of a large van. Then, the large man and another smaller one got in and drove off. The gang held him there until it was out of sight, then they released their grip. They knew that he would be to broken by then to fight back. And he was. Ishizu found him staring off into the distance after she saw the group of men had left. She said nothing, but embraced him and started to cry uncontrollably. Rishid put his hand on her shoulder comfortingly and said, "We'll get him back, I promise. Master Marik will not be taken down so easily."

About an hour had paced since the whole ordeal. The large man was driving while whistling to a Hispanic song playing on the radio. The smaller man sat in silence staring down at the floorboard. "The boss will be very pleased with us, ay Miguel?" the large man said in a sing song voice. The large man was hired by means of money, while the smaller one was threatened like the other boy back at the museum. He too did not want any part of this, but was forced. The big man on the other hand, had no feelings whatsoever for the boy, or anyone elses for that matter. THe only thing that mattered was that he got paid.

Miguel ignored the man's question completely and said coldly, "Find somewhere hidden and pull over."

The other man stared, "Por que?" he asked with a confused look.

"Just do it," muttered the other.

After a few minutes they pulled behind an abandoned gas station. Miguel got out first followed by the other. "Juan, get the drugs just in case he's waking up," Miguel ordered flatly. The huge man shrugged and retrieved the vial. Miguel opened the two doors on the back of the van. The teen was in a crumpled heap in the corner. "Poor kid," sighed Miguel as he pulled himself into the van. Gently he rolled the boy over and straightened him out. His breathing was labored because of the drugs.

"What are you doing," Juan asked annoyed.

"I'm positioning him so he can breathe properly, this kid is under some heavy tranquilizers," replied Miguel.

Juan just shrugged and said, "Whatever."

Miguel glared and then turned back to the boy. He carefully tapped a finger beside the boy's eye, which slowly flickered in response. "He's becoming responsive, so give him one cc of the stuff," the small man said climbing out. "And I MEAN only one," he stated once more.

"Fine, fine," Juan replied nonchalantly while drawing the syringe.

Another couple of hours had passed since they had stopped, so they once again pulled into a hidden area. Miguel got out like before and went to the boy, but was shocked at what he found. He wasn't breathing. He took the boy's wrist in hand. No pulse. Instantly he knew, that idiot had overdosed him. A rage came over Miguel as he screamed in fury for the oaf of a man to get out.

"What is with all the yelling?" he asked sarcastically.

"You idiot!" Miguel hissed. "You overdosed him!" "I said only one cc, how much did you give him?" Miguel was infuriated. He knew what horrible fate lay ahead for the boy, but at least he could have a fighting chance. Put this was just stupidity, a young life wasted because of an idiot. Juan only shrugged.

"Not my problem," he said flatly.

Miguel was about to go for the man's throat when he heard a soft moan. Instantly he turned to the boy. He was still heavily sedated, but he was alright. Miguel said a silent thank God to himself before he got out.

"See, no problem," Juan said with a sly grin.

Miguel stopped short and wheeled around. "Do not go near him again," he growled. "Fine, fine," the big man said still grinning, then both made their way back to the van and started again toward Mexico.


	3. Chapter 3

**OMG it's been forever...sorry it took so long, like i say, horses rule my life and my schedule goes by them....(Looks out window and sees the horses pointing their hooves at the food pans with signs that say feed me now or ur next show will be hell) so anyways after fighting horses, sewing up faces, training a hardhead and dealing with mare hormones...here we go....**

The two men drove all day and all night, stopping rarely. Miguel did not speak to Juan at all during this period, although it did not seem to bother Juan in the least bit. He continued to sing along to his songs of women, beer, and fights. Miguel on the other hand was worried for the strange boy they held captive. He knew that the prison they were headed for had a reputation as being crude, vile, and dangerous. This boy, though young and wiry, was no match for the inmates of such a place. It made him wonder what he had done to make their boss so angry, so angry as to go through all this just to exact revenge. There were so many unanswered questions.

After a long while Juan finally got tired of the silence. "You're not going to give el Niño las drugas?"

"No, he needs to be awake when we get there," Miguel said flatly. "Well, awake as he can get as drugged as he was. I imagine it will be awhile before he's completely out of it, you gave him enough to kill a horse," he said while glaring at the burly man. As he spoke, he thought the teen should be coming around sometime soon, for before long they would be at their destination.

In the back, the boy was indeed coming around, but he was not taking to the sedatives very well. He softly moaned as he struggled to open his blurry violet eyes. His body felt numb and detached. The only thing he was aware of was the slight bumping of the van and the quite hum of the engine. Finally, after much work, he pried his weary eyes open, blinking against the fog. In vain he tried to sit up, but the boy was way too disoriented to do much more than prop himself up. It was now when, if nothing else, he realized he had most defiantly been drugged. His thin body began to shake with slight tremors as he broke out in a cold sweat. He had a terrible headache and was nauseated. Nothing made sense, except that he was alone and now sick. He laid there trembling in an oblivious state for some time until he felt the vehicle come to a stop. His senses were ever so slowly coming back when he heard something from outside and a wave of bright light blinded him.

The men had reached their destination, which was a rough looking prison with its many ominous inmates staring through the razor wired fence at their new arrival. Miguel and Juan had gotten out and opened the back of the van and were met with the foggy lavender eyes of the helpless boy. Miguel hesitated, knowing the pure torture that lie ahead for this strange boy. Seeing his partner's hesitation, Juan decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Wake up Niño," he shouted as he yanked the boy out. There was no resistance from the boy, his body just clumsily rolled with the movement, and when his feet hit the ground his knees gave way and he collapsed into a heap on the hot, dry ground.

"Idiot! I told you not to lay a hand on him again! Can't you see he is in no condition to stand, let alone walk in this state," Miguel screamed at the oaf. He turned back to the boy, who was weakly trying to pull himself up in futile. The young man helped the depleted boy to sit and rose to see two guards in faded tan uniforms approaching. He knew his time with the boy was short. He knelt next to him and looked straight into the teen's foggy eyes. "Please forgive me for what I have done, but I had no choice," Miguel stammered out, fighting back tears of guilt and shame. "I'm so sorry."

And with that, Miguel couldn't watch anymore. He went and climbed back into the van, unable to watch the boy being led to hell on earth. Juan on the other hand greeted the guards with a sly smile as he handed them each a wad of cash. "Gifts from the boss for your troubles," he said as the two uniformed men took their pay. The uniformed men nodded to Juan as he turned to go, leaving the boy alone with the new strangers. The guards then went and yanked the boy up, nearly dragging their new prisoner to the gates of hell.

Marik still couldn't make much sense of anything, his main focus was trying to maintain his equilibrium while being roughly pushed, shoved and dragged by the guards. He still couldn't remember anything, but could hear the shouts of men in a language he did not know. This made his head pulse even more and the air was so hot and dry it burned his throat. He tried to squint against the dust that the three of them were making, but could only make out a small shack like house ahead of him.

The two guards led him into the small building and one pushed him down into a chair in front of a desk. This quick action startled the man behind it, who was turned around in his chair. He happened to be the main officer of the prison and he was not pleased with what he saw. "What is this!" he demanded as he spun around and stood over the desk eyeing the boy and then the guards. "Why is a child in this prison," he said walking around the desk to the boy. "And why is he drugged?" he asked with acid in his voice as he lifted the lid of one of the boy's glassy eyes. The teen stared straight ahead, not following the movement of the officer at all. The officer snapped his tan fingers in front of the boy's face, with no reaction.

With a fury he spun around to the guards. "Why is this boy drugged senseless and in my prison!" he demanded. The two men stood in silence. "Answer me!" the officer said pounding his fist onto the desk, which caused the boy to slightly jump.

One of the guards shifted his weight and quietly said uttered, "Him." This simple word seemed to shock the officer. He turned again to stare at the dazed boy in disbelief.

"But, he's only a boy surely this can't be…" the officer just stared. After a long silence the officer's expression sobered up and he sat back in his chair calmly. "I wash my hands of this, do as you please with him, but if it is the wrong man I had no part in this." The guards sensed that it was time for them to leave and jerked the boy back up and brought him out again, the officer eyeing him suspiciously as they left.

The officers brought the teen into a dimly lit building with iron barred cells lining the walls. They found an open one at the end of the hall and shoved the boy in, who fell to his knees. They left him without a word. All the stress he had endured had not helped him and his body still shivered. He tried once again to get up, but he was still too weak, so in complete exhaustion, the blond boy slipped into unconsciousness again on the hard floor of the prison.


	4. Chapter 4

**ok, let's see if i can keep this thing going. Just got thru watchin a horror movie....*peers around corner with baseball bat...i know that miner guy is here somewhere...*..oh yeah, umm, anyways..here it is...**

Marik finally came to in the middle of the next morning. The warm rays of the sun dimly lit the small cell. The boy slowly opened his eyes and was confused at his surroundings. Slowly, unsure of himself, he pushed himself up and slowly stood up and stretched, a little stiff from sleeping on the hard floor. He rubbed his eyes and looked around again. That's when realization hit like a heavy weight. "Rishid?" he murmured, almost in disbelief. There was no answer, and with intense panic that was rising the teen ran to the bars that held him captive and strained to see if anyone was there that could explain all of this. There no one in any of the other cells, but he could hear men outside faintly. "Ishizu," he whispered pleadingly. He then realized that he was pitifully alone in this God forsaken prison. His mind raced in a panicked frenzy with questions. Were his siblings ok? Where were they? Where was he? Why is he here? What is going to happen to him now? In utter desperation he grabbed the iron bars in front of him tightly ad tried with all his strength not to have meltdown. The thought that his precious brother and sister could be hurt or worse was almost more than he could bear.

"So, our new guest has come around."

The strange voice brought him out of his tortured thoughts. The teen slowly turned his head to stare at the uniformed guard with hate filled eyes.

"We all thought you weren't gonna make it," the tan guard said with a smile, while smoothing his mustache.

"Where am I and where are my siblings?" Marik demanded with acid in his voice.

The guard just laughed. "You, you my friend are in the worst known prison in Mexico. You're in Guadalajara." He paused to take in the shocked expression of the teen before him. Then he continued, "As for your siblings, I have no idea, but as far I know, you're the only one who is trouble."

This statement gave the boy some ease about his siblings, but not himself. "Why am I here?" he asked shortly.

"Oh, you know what you did don't play stupid," the guard said as he started to walk toward the boy with something in his hand. "Here," he said thrusting a faded prison uniform through the bars.

The boy just stared.

"Don't make this difficult for yourself," the guard sighed as he still held out the pitiful excuse for a uniform. It was the traditional black and white striped type, only the colors were starting to become one gray color altogether. It was downright embarrassing.

The teen finally snatched the wretched thing from the guard never taking his eyes off of him. He waited, but the guard just stood there.

"I have to make sure you have no weapons," he stated matter of factly.

This was the epitome of humiliation. The whole process took everything in him from blowing up at the guard and getting him in even more trouble, but he stopped and hesitated at his lavender shirt.

"Go on," he heard the man say behind him.

Swallowing every last bit of the pride he had left, he removed the shirt, revealing the intricate scars on his back.

"What the hell?" the guard said dropping his cigarette, his jaw dropping. Sure he had seen self done gang tattoos, but this was something else entirely. Slowly he made his way to the boy never taking his eyes off of the strange sight.

Marik could feel the guard's eyes boring into him, just like the others at the end of battle city. It was what made him different, he was not the same. This was not something that he had chosen, but he was forced to carry it with him for the rest of his life. Even here, in a prison, he was something strange and unusual.

"What…is that?" breathed the guard who still stood transfixed. Marik only pulled the tattered shirt over his tan arms and shot the guard a dirty look.

"You sure are a strange one," uttered the guard who had come back to his senses.

"Yeah, I get that a lot," was the cold reply. He thought back to end of battle city again, when everyone kept their distance from him. Of course, they had a right to hate him, after all that he had done. He probably deserved to be in this prison, he thought to himself. Which brought him right back into the mess he was in emotionally. He just wanted to be accepted.

"What are you standing there for, let's go," the Spanish voice snapped him back to the present. The guard had the door open and was pointing down the right hall, toward a large door. The teen reluctantly followed the guard to the door, which had a massive lock and bolt on it. The guard unbolted the door, and before he opened it, turned to the boy and said ruthlessly, "Don't get yourself killed too quickly, ok." And with that, he flung the door open and shoved him outside, bolting the door behind him.

The teen found himself outside in a walled square, filled with the inmates of the prison. All of the men had stopped whatever they were doing and were staring. They had never seen one so young, and he truly was a sight to them with his blond hair and gold jewelry.

Marik, on the other side, was taking them in as well. They were different from the rare hunters. These men did not steal cards. They were murderers, ruthless fighters who knew no mercy. And he was alone with them; they could with him as they pleased with no rules. But then and there he made a resolution; he was going to find his family again no mater what.

From the group of men that were staring at him, one, a very built and powerful man who appeared to be the leader, started toward the boy. The teen did not move. The massive man stopped in front of him, towering over his thin frame. He looked down at the boy, and met his resolute gaze. This made him laugh. He bent down and met the boy face to face. He smiled a devious grin at the defiant teen.

"What'a we got here, a little girl?" he said while flipping one of the boy's golden earrings.

Like a reflex the little wiry teen struck out at the huge beast before him. His blow barely seemed to faze him at all, and almost as quickly, the giant grabbed his wrist and flung him across the ground. But the boy didn't stay down long. Something inside him was screaming at him not to die, and that was just what he was aiming to do. The man before him might be huge, but he was agile. As the giant came at him again, he ducked and with all the strength he had, elbowed him in the gut.

While this might have worked with any rare hunter that threatened him, it was no match for this new breed of fighter. The giant snatched him up by the neck and pushed his body into the jagged barbed fence.

The boy cried out in pain as the barbs torn into his flesh and his air was being cut off by the massive hands that held him, but he was not going to die. With what was left of his strength, he kicked the man square under the chin, which caused to release his grip and stagger back. The teen fell with a thud on the ground gasping for air. The man seemed to have enough for the day and smiled as he turned to leave, "I hope you learned something today boy."

Marik pulled himself up off the ground and stood with his hands on his knees, still fighting for breath. His wounds were starting to smart and he could feel the blood trickling down his back, but that didn't seem to faze him at the moment. He stared back at the men, now back to their business, with the same defiant stare. He was going to find his family, and he was going to do whatever it takes to do so. That included surviving this prison. So with a heavy sigh, he slowly slid down against the side of the prison building. He winced as his cuts brushed against the stone. Tiredly, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying desperately to figure a way out.

**ok, things are gonna get better for poor Marik..and horses are gonna be in tha next chapter...finally....my name isn't Dixie-Filly for nuthin. So chapter five will be in process hopefully tomorrow if all goes well with with Beaver's...yeah that's my lil barbie horse, training session...review please.:)**


	5. Chapter 5

**ok, i dont even know if this can really happen in real life....but ya know what, poor Marik needs a break and i need to write some horse stuff.....**

For the next 24 hours, the little wiry teen was in survival mode. He had sustained many cuts and bruises during that time, but none could crush the boy's will to live. The prison guard would often look out and see him fighting off yet another huge man and would laugh to himself, "He's a little gamecock." He would fight them off until they got tired with him, and then he would rest along the stone walls of the prison building. It was during one of his few rest sessions that he was startled awake by a commotion at the far end of the yard. From where he was, all he could see was stirred up dust and all he heard were men yelling. With intense curiosity, the boy cautiously made his way toward the mass.

When he got closer, he could make out a man sprawled in the dirt, cursing with every last bit of air he had, at a four legged animal slowly walking away from him, swishing his tail nonchalantly, until another man caught his dragging rope and led him to another waiting.

Marik had seen few horses, but he knew this one was not a fine charger in way. The horse was very short, but was built like a little freight train. He had a huge chest and haunches, making him look a little awkward, but certainly powerful, but while he was powerful, he most certainly was not beautiful. He was a strawberry roan, his coat a faded red with white flecks blending in all over him. He had a huge Roman nose1 and little pin ears that touched at the tip. His legs were spavined and pigeon toed. He also had a swayback, which didn't give him any bonus points. His hooves were grown out and chipped. He had little tail and almost no mane. He wore an old worn out saddle blanket and an equally worn out Mexican saddle2. He wore no bridle, but a rope halter with a wide piece of leather for a noseband3.

The boy stared at the horse with great intensity. He had never seen a real horse before. And right in the middle of his reverie, a voice shot at him, "Your turn boy."

Marik turned to face the man holding the old stud horse. The boy stared in disbelief. The man motioned for him to get on with a flick of his head. "Round here, this is our recreation," the man said. Marik was tired and couldn't fight his way out of this one. He had no choice. Slowly and carefully, the boy clambered up onto the little roan. When he finally situated himself, he felt strange and awkward, being on this animal with a mind of its own. The man thrust the single cotton rope that was attached to the halter up to him. As soon as he had taken it, the man said, "Better hold on tight."

"Wait, what?" the boy the gasped, but before he do anything the man slapped the old bronc on the rump.

"Come on boy, show Giro4 who's boss," the man laughed sarcastically.

The little horse snatched he head straight down between his front legs and with a huge groan propelled himself in the air. Up and down he went, twisting and kicking in the air, tossing the boy about like a ragdoll. The boy had never felt such power. With each surge, his head was snapped back, and with each landing, it snapped forward. The roan with ears pinned stopped short and swerved, sending the teen straight over head and onto his back into a cloud of dust.

The boy lay there, it had all happened so fast. He was completely dazed, but unhurt, just sore. As he stared up at the sky, a large shape moved in and blocked it out, blowing warm air into his face. He felt the velvet muzzle of the little horse gently poking his face. Marik opened his eyes to see the goofy head of the little roan staring right back at him. Slowly he sat up, not wanting to scare him away. He had come back to him. This animal, which seemed malicious just moments ago was curiously peering down at him. He met the big, brown eyes of the little horse, and it something he would never forget. Where he had seen so many hard, cruel stares from people, this little lowly horse had a look of complete amazement at this thing he had just shed from his back. Marik made no move as the roan sniffed his face and blew his misty breath all over him. The men standing around were in shock too, the old bronc never approached anyone like that before. "Well look at that," one of them muttered.

The boy slowly raised his hand and stroked the blazed face of the little horse. Something about this simple act made his heart lighten. The horse looked at him as if to say, hey, no hard feelings, just in a days work partner. Marik saw that there was no fear or hate in his eyes, he was a bucking horse, that was his job and he held no grudges. Just having this ugly little horse accept him was all that he needed for the moment. As the boy continued stroking the horse, the little roan cocked one hind foot and lowered his head with lips drooping, falling asleep. Seeing this, the boy softly laughed, he felt freed from his emotional prisons for the moment, and could finally laugh. In the middle of a Godforsaken prison, where he was wanted dead, he had found a friend that he so desperately needed in the form of a little worn out bronco.

After a while the teen picked himself up and dusted off. He looked around and spotted the little enclosure that the "recreation" horse was kept. With a smile the boy turned to the horse and asked, "You tired?" The horse let out a long sigh. The boy grinned, "I thought so, let's get outta here then, shall we?" And with that the boy took the horses lead and led him back to his pen while the other inmates stared in shock. Once inside the boy figured out how to get the giant hunk of leather form the old horse's back. He also removed the rope halter and just stood there smoothing out the old stallion's coat where the saddle had rubbed it. He never wanted to leave the little bronc. The little horse never judged him, he didn't care about his ugly past.

The boy stayed with his new friend until sundown, listening to the quiet sound of the horse munching hay. He was thinking, that when he got out of the prison and found his family again, he was going to show them these wonderful creatures. Once again he was interrupted out of his thoughts when the men were being brought in for the night, and with reluctance, he left his friend for the night.

1 Large, rounded muzzle, often seen in draft breeds.

2 Imagine a western saddle with a ginormous horn.

3 Red flag for bronc.

4 The horse's name derives from the Spanish verb Girar, which means to turn and twist.

**ok, so the horse is from a song by marty robbins. its called the strawberry roan and its about a bucking horse that can never be ridden. This chapter is kind of a prolouge to the real story that is about to come. Horses as healers. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Ok, now the holidays are over and i can get back to work. Ok, there is an OC thats gonna play a big part in this story from now on, and let me make this VERY clear.....he is a father figure for Marik....i do NOT write yaoi..k...got it....right then..proceed :)**

The night the boy spent in the prison was probably one of the loneliest of his life. He sat in the corner of the dark cell with knees drawn and arms crossed. He felt completely isolated from everything. It was completely dark. The other inmates no didn't even care to taunt him, so not a word was spoken to him for quiet some time. His troubled mind was racing to try to figure out some way to get back to his family, but with every passing second, that thought seemed more and more hopeless. He wondered if he would ever see his siblings again. He imagined how Rishid would come to his rescue, like he always did. He would fight off anyone who tried to him, and then he would wrap him in his cloak and hold him close. He would get him out of this hell, if he only knew where he was. Marik also thought of how his sister would run and throw her arms around him and embrace him with tears of joy. She would lavish him with her love and carefully tend his wounds. He missed them both so much, but with the way things were going, the possibility of seeing them again was slim.

The sighed and wished he could be outside with the little roan. Just listening to the little horse munching his hay peacefully eased his soul, if only a little. He was the only being that had shown him kindness.

Lost in his thoughts, the teen drifted in and out of sleep. When he would awaken, he often times didn't remember where he was, but the harsh reality of his situation was always never far off. He hated the complete darkness and quietness of the place, and was glad to see the sun peeking above the horizon in the morning.

The teen again fought off a steady stream of bored inmates when they were let out into the yard. During one of these brawls, he saw out of the corner of his eye a strange man talking to another guard a distance off. Of course he didn't think anything of it, as he was trying fend off the savage prisoner who was out for his blood at the moment.

* * *

The man's name was Cole Whitman. He was born and raised a Texan, but had come to Mexico and lived his life breaking1 horses. He was a tall and well built man, his skin tanned a rich brown by the scorching sun. He had sandy colored hair under a brown felt hat with a goatee to match. But the most striking aspect of him were his deep blue eyes that seemed to see into another's soul, and at the moment, these eyes were watching the wiry teen intently.

"So, your looking for a farm hand and you come here?" the guard asked dumbfounded. "These men are cold blooded killers; do you wish to be murdered?"

"I dunno, just felt like I should come here, like something told me to," he said plainly. The guard stared at him in disbelief when he continued, "What'd the boy do?" he asked flatly, not even looking at the guard.

"Oh him, I, uh, I don't know, it was never documented," he said trying to remember.

Suddenly Cole turned on the man. "What!" The little guard stared unable to say anything. "You mean to tell me that this boy is in this hell and nobody knows why?" Cole stood quivering with anger. He absolutely hated to see anything abused. "That's a pretty sorry excuse." He looked back at the boy. "He's goin' with me," he stated matter of factly.

"Right, uh, let's discuss this in the office shall we?" the guard said while turning to go, still shaken.

The Texan turned and followed. Little did they know that their whole conversation was heard by the large prisoner Marik had fought the first day.

* * *

The teen was getting ready to deflect another strike from his current opponent when the large man pulled the other aside forcefully and shoved him hard into the ground. The boy gasped and looked up to see the huge man towering over him. The prisoner stared at him for some time, then without warning, struck him hard in the face. The boy had never felt such force before, the blow almost knocked him out cold.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" the man almost screamed. "You think your so special, huh?"

The boy struggled to sit up again, blood running down the side of his mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about," the boy stammered out.

"Oh, sure, you expect me to believe that you have no idea that you're getting out of here,"

Now all of the prisoners were staring hatefully at the boy. "What," he asked confused.

Viciously, the man grabbed the boy up and said to his face, "The only way anyone gets outta here, is in a body bag."

The boy's eyes widened in terror as the whole mob sprang on him. As he was brutally being beaten, he thought, "This is it, I'm really going to die now." He felt something sharp dig into his shoulder. There was no way out, he was defenseless. Just as was about to completely give up hope; he heard a gunshot being fired.

* * *

Cole held the Colt revolver above his head, pulling back the hammer for another shot. "Anyone makes one more move to harm that kid will get a bullet to the head," he said icily. The men slowly backed away from the badly beaten boy. "Beating a kid senseless, some men y'all are."

When Marik felt that no one was trying to kill him anymore, he slowly tried to pick his battered body up off the ground. Every more hurt and he could feel his blood on his shoulder and face. He winced when he put weight on his left arm, which made his shoulder wound hurt. His only motive right now was to somehow get away from all of these men that were here to hurt him. He jumped in a panic when he felt a hand on his back. As fast as his body would let him, he pulled away from the hand and turned to see a sandy haired man kneeling down.

"You stay away from me," the boy said, his eyes still terrified.

"Easy son, I'm just tryin' to help you," the man said not attempting to move.

"And you expect me to believe that," the boy said with blood dripping from his mouth.

"No, I don't, not after what you've been through, but you have to trust me so I can get you out of here," the man said gently.

"Why, so you can take me out in the woods and shoot me?" the teen retorted.

"Please," the man almost begged. "I want to help you, I can see the pain and agony you're feeling in your eyes, I'm so sorry that you're hurting this much."

The boy just stared at the man while fighting to get his breath. He looked into this strange man's piercing blue eyes and saw that he was sincere. "Alright," he muttered with the last of his strength.

* * *

Cole grinned as he stood up and went to the boy. He knelt down gave the boy his handkerchief, who took it with shaking hands and wiped some of the blood off his face. "Can you walk?" Cole asked as he went around to the boy's right side and slipped the boy's arm over his shoulder. The teen was still shaking.

"I think so," the boy said, slowly starting to rise, but his battered body objected and sent a wave of pain through in reply, causing the boy to suck in his breath and start to buckle. But his fall was stopped as he felt the man support him.

"Easy, are you sure you can make it?" the man asked worried.

"Yeah," the blond replied, straitening up and with the man's support, started to carefully walk foreword.

The two slowly made it to the gates of the prison, all of the prisoners and the guard staring. "Sir, you can't…," the guard said, but Cole whipped out the revolver and pointed it at him menacingly.

"He's going with me, you have enough men here to torture as you like, but you have no right to hurt this boy," Cole growled. The teen peered over his shoulder at the shaken guard.

"Yes sir," he stammered.

Cole lowered the pistol and helped the boy out to his truck. When he helped him into the seat, he patted him on the knee and said, "You're gonna be alright now, and I promise I'll find your family for you, ok?"

The tired boy breathed a quick ok in return before he slumped back into the seat completely exhausted.

1 Another word for training


	7. Chapter 7

**ok, chapter 7 is finally up...so much school..and i HATE THIS COLD WEATHER!!!! Haven't rode in a week....:(..anywho, enough of my ranting....:)**

Cole glanced over at the strange boy sitting across from him. He had taken the foreigner under his wing after seeing the cruelty he was receiving. Abuse was one thing the man did not put up with. He didn't know what the boy did to get into such a place, but when he saw the look in his violet eyes, it shattered his heart. So now he was taking him to his small farm to start his healing process.

It was quite a ways to the little horse farm, the road long and bumpy. Cole kept his eyes on the road most of the time, but would occasionally glance over at the boy to make sure he was ok; after all, he had sustained quite a beating. Marik, on the other hand, leaned against the door and tried not to move his bruised body. He also tried to keep his mind blank; if only for a little while, he wanted to escape from everything. And for awhile, he succeeded, until a bump in the road made his broken body scream in protest. The boy winced and clutched his arm, trying to cause as little movement possible.

"You alright?"

The boy turned his head to see genuine worry in the man's eyes. "Yeah, just sore," he replied feeling blood start to trickle down his arm again. He still didn't know if he could trust this guy or not, but right now he had no choice and he did seem different from the rest. Still, it was eating him inside to know why he had chosen him. Why anyone would choose to save him. So quietly, almost a whisper, he asked, "Why me?"

"What?" Cole asked, surprised the boy was speaking to him. He watched as the blond slowly and carefully turned around to face him with his violet eyes. They were a mix of confusion, sorrow, and guilt. The boy was carrying a load of troubles that was too big for any man to bear.

"Why would you want to help someone like me?" the blond asked solemnly. The blond shuddered in pain and closed his eyes. "You wouldn't have helped me if you only knew what kind of person I am," he muttered. The pain in his body seemed to grow worse, but his heart had had about all it could stand. His mind clouded with memories of his childhood; his abusive father, the ritual, how his hate and anger drove him mad. He saw the saddened faces of his siblings and all the others he had hurt in Battle City. He thought he should be hated, he deserved to die, but for some reason he was spared. Maybe that was his punishment, he thought. To live with the guilt and shame of what he had done. Condemned to walk alone under the hate filled eyes of all who knew him. He would always be different, never belonging.

Cole watched the boy sit in silence. He wanted so badly to lift the burden from this boy, or at least share it. He reached over and placed his hand on the boy's good shoulder. "You are not the same person you were, even if you did screw up, I can see that you are a broken soul begging for acceptance, for redemption."

The boy opened his eyes, astonished at how understanding this strange man was.

Cole continued, "You are not a bad person. A person does not start off as bad. Listen, spending all my time breaking all kinds of rough stock horses has taught me a lot. A kid is like a horse. You take an unbroken colt, you love him, respect him, give him proper discipline, you treat him as your partner, and that colt will respect you and work with you, giving all his heart to you. But, if you take the same colt, scare him into submission, beat him, run him into the ground, and force your power onto him, he will react in self defense. He will kick, bite, buck, rear, and strike. These are the "bad" horses you hear about, but they are not malicious beasts. They are simply scared and trying to stay alive. It is a learned behavior. But people nowadays are so caught up in their own ways. They don't care to take the time to really see these tortured souls for who they are. These people label them as evil, bad, or worthless. In my opinion, these people are idiots," Cole announced smiling. "You're like one of these wild broncs, huh?"

At first Marik sat dazed contemplating all that he had just heard. Even though he knew nothing about horses and at first he didn't really understand what they had to do with anything he was going through, it did make sense. This man was the first person besides his own family that had not judged him. It was amazing, it was like this man's sapphire eyes could literally read him like a book.

"I guess you could say that," Marik replied softly, the pain in his body rising again.

Cole could see his discomfort again. "We're almost home, just rest until then."

The blond nodded and tried to fall asleep, but his arm throbbing almost made that impossible, but he managed to doze off for a short while.

The teen awoke when he felt the soft motion of the truck stop. A little dazed, he looked out the window to see a little two story county style house. It looked like something out of a western. It was homey, and had a comforting air to it. Beyond the house he could see a barn and pastures with horses and to the left a large circular pen beside a dirt arena.

"Well, this is my humble abode," Cole said grinning as he got out of the truck. He went and helped the boy out and up to the house. The inside was just as comforting as the outside. There was a main hallway and a staircase. The walls were hung with photos of Cole on various horses doing various activities. There also ones of family, children, and other various people. The house smelled like wood and spices. It was something out of a dream.

"You can stay in my room, it'd be cruel to make you scale those stairs," Cole said, bringing the boy back to reality.

"No, really, I'll be ok," Marik insisted, not wanted to intrude.

"Nope, it's fine, now let's take care of that arm so you can get some rest," Cole said lightly as he walked into his room at the right of the stair case. It wasn't large, but it was perfect. Old Spanish bridles hung from the walls, their silver still shining vibrantly and the bits gleaming. There was a Navajo rug on the floor and a silver adorned Spanish saddle in the corner of the room. Various items like spurs, bits, ropes, and pictures hung on the walls, all with a story to tell. The boy was completely taken in once again.

Cole led the boy to the little quilted bed. As the boy sat, Cole removed his hat, threw it on the hat rack and reached for one of the ornate bridles.

"This one was Skippy's. Skippy was the best horse anyone could ask for. He'd cut a cow so fast, that if you weren't paying attention, he'd sling you right off. God rest that little horse's soul," he said returning it to the wall. "Everything here has contributed something to my life, and I like to look back and see what I learned sometimes."

This man made more sense than just about anyone the boy had ever met.

"Well, feel free to look around, I'm going to get the first aid kit," Cole said still smiling at the boy's fascination.

Marik spotted a picture of Cole on another horse on the bedside table. Out of curiosity, he picked it up and saw that it was of Cole turning a cow on a little bay horse. Both horse and rider looked to be in unison and hard at work together. At the bottom written in pen was NCHA, Skippy.

Cole returned a short while later with the kit. The boy returned the picture and turned to face him. "You might want to take that dirty prison shirt off so it doesn't interfere with your wound," Cole said nonchalantly as he was looking in the kit.

It felt as if one of the prisoners had punched him in the face again. Now he would surely think him a freak and turn on him, but he couldn't hide it from him forever. He reluctantly did as he was told, wincing as the shirt brushed against his tender wound. And once again he awaited the stares.

"First we'll have to clean it…," Cole stopped short as he caught sight of the intricate scars. The boy looked as if he was about to fall apart, so quickly he continued, "And hopefully we've caught it early."

"You can't fool me by trying to act like you don't notice, everyone notices," the boy said somberly.

Cole stood silent for a minute, but then softly smiled. "You're right, I can't, but I'm not going to let that stop me from getting to know you, and it's not my place to bother you about it."

Marik jerked his head around to Cole. "You seriously mean that?" The fact that someone wasn't terrified of him was still new to him.

"Yep, every word, so let's see that arm," he replied as he sat next to the teen.

Marik winced as he felt the cloth touch the livid wound. The warm water seemed to fizzle on the red flesh. But as much as it hurt, he admired how slow and careful the man was. He took every precaution not to cause more pain than necessary. When he finished he stared at it intently for awhile.

"Dang it," he muttered gently feeling the wound.

"What?" the boy asked, a little alarmed.

"I didn't think it'd be this deep, we're gonna have to stitch it," Cole said, still unhappy with his finding.

Marik sighed heavily, not exactly thrilled at the news, but if he had to do it, what else could he do.

Cole opened the suture pack and placed the needle in the small pair of medical pliers that he got from the kit. "I promise I'll be quick," Cole said as he readied the needle.

"I'll be ok," the boy replied as he looked away. As soon as he felt the needle enter he bit down on his thumb to keep from shouting.

"I'm sorry," he heard the man say repeatedly. It didn't last too long, but it was enough to cause sweat to bead on the boy's forehead. "I hated doing that, but it would get infected if left open," Cole said wrapping the teen's arm in gauze.

"It's ok, I've had worse, and that was intentional pain," the boy weakly said while slightly smiling.

Cole was shocked at what he heard and wanted to know more, but the boy was tired and needed rest. "Well, the bathroom is the first door to your left down the hall, get cleaned up and get some sleep ok," the man said while putting the supplies away. "Oh, and here's these," he said handing the boy's own clothes to him. "Got em before the fight."

The boy said his thanks and headed for the bathroom. After scrubbing the grunge from his tan skin in a hot shower, he headed back to the little room and climbed under the large quilt. After thinking about his siblings for awhile, he finally dozed off and got the sleep he so desperately needed.

**Yeah, the whole stitiching thing..i know firsthand, cause...i had to suture my horse's face...myself..not fun....at all..my poor horse....**


	8. Chapter 8

**Uh, Sorry it took so long...again, i'm riding 5 horses now in an already crammed schedule...i know yall get tired of hearin about the H word, but, cant help it. anyways.. review please :)**

The setting sun cast hues of pink and purple on a large mansion in San Antonio. Sounds of laughter and cheery voices broke the silence of the otherwise quiet night. Outside this grandiose place stood a lone figure. He wore a fine suit and appeared no different than any of the other guests, but he was deathly afraid to enter, for he bore news that his boss did not want to hear. Anyone who angered him always ran the risk of dire consequences, but they were worse if things were withheld from him.

So, with his hand slightly trembling, he turned the brass knob of the large door and stepped in. Inside were men and women dressed in fine elegant clothes, some with vintage Spanish dress. They were dancing to waltzes, tangos, and the flamenco. "He sure can throw some kind of party," the man mumbled to himself. His boss was known for having grand parties and dances, mainly just to flaunt his wealth at others. And tonight was sure not the night to disturb him.

The man made his way through the crowds of people until he saw a man sitting in a red velvet chair at the front of the ball room. A lovely young woman in a baby blue silk dress was draped over the arm of the chair batting her eyes at the wealthy tanned man who was giving her his attention.

Now was defiantly not the time to give him the bad news, but it couldn't wait. Cautiously the nervous man walked up to the couple.

"Senior Ordonez, I…," but he was cut off shortly.

"Don't you see I'm busy here you idiot!" Ordonez raged. "What could you possibly want?" he asked glaring daggers at his intrusion.

"I'm deeply sorry sir, but I have troubling news," the man stuttered.

"And?"

"It's the boy sir, he escaped somehow, he was only there for a day or two," the man reported with eyes staring at the floor.

Ordonez seemed to silently tremble with rage. Anger welled inside him until he flew out of the chair at the man, knocked the woman to the floor, and grabbed the man by the collar.

Ordonez stood holding the defenseless man in silent rage for quite some time, but finally loosened his grip. The terrified man sat trembling, along with all of the guests who had seen Ordonez's outburst. Everything was silent.

"After what he did to my son, he doesn't deserve to live," stammered the fuming Ordonez. Then with a quick pace he went to the foyer and up the stairs, shoving anyone who was in his path out of the way. He stormed to his large and ornate bedroom, flinging open a closet and yanking out a wooden box. He snatched the lid of, revealing a very ornate pistol, gleaming viciously in the light. Ordonez yanked it up, loaded it with six rounds, and stormed back outside to his truck. As he revved the engine, he dialed a number on his cell phone and when it was answered Ordonez asked, "Juan, let's you and me go on a little hunt shall we?"

* * *

Marik found himself in complete darkness. There was neither light nor sound. It was like he was in a sealed room with no escape. It was also cold. Very cold. The boy wrapped his arms around himself in a futile attempt to ward off the biting iciness. The darkness seemed to grow and force itself upon the boy.

"Rishid?" Marik called with panic rising. At first he heard nothing. Then, very quietly, he could hear someone walking toward him. He stood shivering with eyes riveted at the direction of the sound. Finally a tall figure appeared before him. Instantly a smile flitted across the boy's face. "Brother!" he called joyfully as he sprang foreword, running to his beloved sibling. "I've missed you so much," the teen said as he went foreword to embrace his brother, but was cut off short at the end when the man roughly shoved him to the ground. The force threw the boy down hard and knocked the breath out of him, but worse than that, it plunged a dagger in his heart. The man continued to walk by, never changing his expression. Marik was so stunned by his brother's harsh action that he remained shivering on the black ground. But then the panic returned.

"Rishid wait," he called, scrambling up and charging in the direction he thought his brother went. But all he could find was darkness. Before the boy could panic again, a new sound filled the bleakness. It was a woman crying. A crying that bore into the boy's heart like a knife. It wasn't just weeping, but an agonized, tortured crying. It was his sister.

"Ishizu?" Marik called frantically. But he received no answer and could see nothing, but only heard the terrible sobs of his sister. Marik stood in silence trembling with fear and cold. He could do nothing but listen in the overpowering darkness. He didn't think it could get any worse, but then he heard a dark, sinister voice behind him.

"Such a shame, she's such a nice woman, whoever made her cry like that must have no soul at all," chimed the dark voice.

Marik spun around. "Who are you," he demanded through chattering teeth. The place seemed to be getting even colder.

"Don't act stupid Marik; you know very well who I am."

The boy stood there shivering, staring in fear. "No, no there's no way you can be alive," he gasped in disbelief.

Suddenly a huge figure sprang from the darkness, seizing the boy's neck in his unbreakable grasp.

"How can I not be?" the sadistic figure laughed. "I am you and you are me," he spat as he watched the teen writhe. "When will you finally learn that you are nothing to anyone?"

"No," the boy gasped, fighting for air.

"No?" "That's not what I see," the wild eyed entity smirked, turning and thrusting the boy to the ground. The teen coughed and sat clutching his throat with the figure hovering over him. He was in the middle of a coughing fit when he heard an angry voice full of rage and hate. It was his own. He looked up to see scenes of himself raging at raging at Rishid, even striking him. He also saw Ishizu crying, along with everything he did at battle city. As the scenes progressed, he hung his head in shame and guilt. That's when he felt something icy cold at his throat. "This place is the coldness of your black heart," the dark figure said while slowly tilting the boy's head up facing him with the dagger of the millennium rod.

"Is that a tear I see?" the sadistic voice mocked. "How weak. Now do you realize that you dug yourself your own grave? You decided your own fate Marik, now it's time for you to accept it," the voice said now raising the dagger above the boy. Marik tried to move out of the way, but found that he had no control over his body. The monstrous figure laughed as the dagger was brought down on top of him, and he could only stare at the sharp point as it came down.

* * *

Cole jumped from his chair in the living room when he heard the boy's strangled yell. He knocked over the coffee table in his mad rush to his room. He flung the door open to find the blond teen with his head buried in his hands on drawn up knees. His body was shaking and sweat was pouring off of his tan skin.

"Son, are you alright?" Cole asked quietly. He walked in slowly, trying to figure out what was going on. The boy jumped, and then raised his head to meet the worried gaze of the man before him.

"I'm fine," he said solidly while wiping his reddened eyes. "I was just dreaming I guess."

Cole knew not to push it. "Alright then, you gave me quite a scare. You've been asleep for almost a day. You must be hungry. Dinner will be ready in a little while, you can come when you like," he said walking out of the room.

Marik sighed and ran his hand through his hair. His body still hurt from the fight and that dream certainly didn't help matters. He finally quit shaking and got out of bed. He dressed himself while taking care not to disturb his arm. Before leaving the room, he stopped to see the damage done in a mirror hanging by the door. He once again sighed in dismay as he viewed his blackened eye, busted lip, and wilder than normal bangs. But, as of right now, he really didn't care too much. After trying to smooth down his blond hair, he made his way to the kitchen.

Man and boy ate in silence, not in a harsh, cold way, but in a mutual quietness. After both had finished, Cole leaned foreword extending his hand.

"You know, I don't think we have properly met," he said with a warm grin. "The name is Cole Whitman."

The boy reached and took the man's grasp and with a light grin said, "Marik Ishtar."

Cole leaned back in his chair and folded his arms over his chest. "Well Marik, I can call your folks right now and get you on the road home if you want me to," he said. For a spilt second the boy's heart fluttered with joy, but the memories of the dream quickly shut that out. "But, can I ask you a favor?" Cole added.

"Sure," the boy replied a little stunned.

"I want you to help me train a horse," he said with his blue eyes serious. "I really think it would be good for you. I promise that it will help you."

"But I don't know anything about that," Marik replied even more stunned.

"Don't worry about it, its part of the process," was Cole's reply.

The boy thought this over for a while. He wanted to get home to his family, but he had so many things that he wanted to work out with his life at the moment. The more he thought about it, the more he came to realize that maybe he did need to get away and piece his broken spirit back together.

"I'll do it," the teen said quietly.

"Good, I think you'll be glad you did. I'll call your family and tell them everything. I think it's best if you and they don't get too emotional," Cole said with his warm grin.

Marik wanted to object, but he did see his point.

"We'll start tomorrow bright and early," Cole said smiling.

The boy couldn't help but feel hopeful that maybe now he would finally be getting a chance to make a difference in his life.


End file.
